


Burden Thou

by roseltheteacup



Category: Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood and Gore, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrations, Murder, Near Death Experiences, Stabbing, Vampire AU, Vampires, Victorian era, dumb old english, mentions of cannibalism (?), not entirely historically accurate lmao i'm just having fun, they're vampires they eat people, time might jump around between then and canon time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:56:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26838589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roseltheteacup/pseuds/roseltheteacup
Summary: Two brothers burdened with a curse of vampirism. Time moves in an instant outside their window. Will they forgive humankind or stay in solitude forever?
Relationships: Dande | Leon & Hop
Comments: 16
Kudos: 24





	1. The Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> heyy it's been a while since this au got any attention but it's cause I literally didn't know how else to convey the story shit I had planned until now lmao  
> expect a lot of dumb old english and dumb old english slang  
> I'm writing this under the assumption that there might be more chapters added in the future but I'm not sure lmao

It was in the dead of night that the terrifying figure of the red man was most likely the last thing you'd ever see. This land, it was his. You'd be dead where you stand is he caught sight of you.

Yellow eyes, pupils narrowed to slits. They watch and analyse their prey as he exchanges blows with a pitiful human. His cape flutters in the wind, heels scrape against the dirt below. He jumps up, only to catch a glimpse of something familiar.

Too familiar.

A finely carved wooden stake hides within the jacket of his prey.

He knows that look. An animal looking to be on their last resort. Eyes fixated in fear.

Before his body can react along with his mind, the human reaches for it, and plunges the stake into his heart.

He gasps and splutters. It's driven into his flesh with all the might of a human fearing for their life.

He falls. Rather ungracefully.

Before he can look back up, his prey is gone.

And its a seething pain.

To think something lived to see him in this much anguish. To see him this weak.

It's a miracle, that the stake wasn't plunged into his centre. Instead, it was slightly to his left.

If you were hit head on-

_You'd be dead._

He stumbles to his feet. You need to get back. It's time to go home. What if they're going for _him_ too? You have to check on him. It's time to go, it's time to go. You must go, back to your fractured castle.

\--

A young boy sits on a pew in dark shadow. He plays with old dolls and amateur wooden carvings supposed to resemble Mudbray and Wooloo.

Light shines through the glass windows. The foyer is speckled with a shattered rainbow. 

He expects he'll be back soon. 

But this was _too soon._ A man crashes through the front doors, blood smearing over the wood. The moon casts a harsh light through the hall, only illuminating the red carpet leading up to the altar. He collapses to his knees, his slumped shadow stretching across the hall. 

"B-Brother?" a small voice trembles. 

The man glances at his blood-covered hands before trying to reach out to the boy. Rushed footsteps sound as the boy's heels pound into the stone flooring.

"H...Hop...."

The man coughs, spitting out blood. The boy glances, horrified, at the stake protruding out of the man's chest. He kneels down in front of him. 

"Whatever happened?? Are thou alright?!" he takes one of his brother's hands in his and prays he stays conscious long enough to answer. 

"They....they are gone now... I must have frightened them... thou... thou are safe now..." 

He collapses to the ground before he can speak further. 

The boy is left on his own. Alone, with his fatally wounded sibling. He stares in disbelief for a few seconds before he can process the situation. His brother, Leon- if not the most feared vampire of their time-- struck down by a human?!

He couldn't believe it. 

And yet the proof is right in front of him. 

He has to act fast. 

Being a vampire, of course his physical strength was amplified, but even so carrying (or rather, dragging) his older sibling to the washroom was not an easy task. 

After shuffling noisily into the room, he leans the man up against the brick wall, then rushes to fetch a pail of rainwater. 

Crouching down besides the man who's barely breathing, he mutters. 

"Forgive me...mine brother. Thou... admittedly, thou should'st've taught me more about treating wounds..."

He grits his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut. 

"Please forgive me!" 

Hop tears the stake out with his tiny clawed mittens. The object keeping him from bleeding out is now missing. Hop gets to work wetting spare cloth and cleaning out the wound. At times he feels like he could vomit. It's slightly foolish, he wasn't unaccustomed to seeing gore, it's what his brother would bring home for dinner every night- the mangled corpse of any human unfortunate enough to come close enough to their fortress of solitude. Of course it'd be cut up into polite little slabs before ever being placed in front of his delightful little brother, but it's not like Hop wasn't aware of where said meat came from. 

But it didn't matter right now. This was his brother. 

He's panicking too much, he knocks over the pile of scrap cloth in his frenzy. 

He ties layer upon layer around the man's chest in attempt to stop the bleeding. Surely his brother's healing factor would kick in and take care of the rest, no? But this was a vital area- and- and-! 

_He's not going to live, is he...?_

\--

Purple eyelashes flutter open, half-lidded, to a room bathed in the light of a late afternoon. The curtains obscure any naked rays of light, as usual.

His chest feels...heavy. And his heart thumps to the slow creaking of...

Floorboards.

He looks up.

To the face of a wide-eyed boy-

That now rushes into his arms.

The boy sobs. And sobs and sobs and sobs.

"Lee! I thought had lost thou I- I was so afeared and so stupid and-"

"I am fine, Hop."

Leon grips his brother's shoulders and peers into his wet face, and how he sniffles. Guilt pools in the man's gut. 

"I am the stupid one. I.... myself, I should be protecting thou... I am sorry."

Leon places a hand over his bandaged chest. "Yet 'tis because of thou that I was able to live. I am proud of thou!" 

The boy sniffles some more, then nods. He smiles. 

Leon glances down. 

"Ah! Thou didst not hast to use _that!"_

There, wrapped around Leon's bloody torso, was one of Hop's shirts. It's embroidery now soaked in blood. Hop glances to the side, embarrassed. 

"I...ran out of spare cloth...I am sorry."

Leon sighs. 

"It is...it is fine... never worry."

He crosses his arms slowly and thinks. 

"Yet...rushing to help thy brother like that... I suppose thou were always 'mad as hops', one could say?" 

He winks and Hop can't decide if he wants to scoff or groan in displeasure. 

"I was not excited!! I was afeard, most afeard!!" 

Leon's dumb grin evolves into a contagious chuckle. Hop pouts and yaps with his fangs bared in a childish manner. "I never appreciate thy stupid gigglemug! I was oh so worried mine daddles would not be able to patch up thy wound!" 

Leon stops. He breathes. 

"Thou are right, thou are right. I am sorry...." 

He ruffles Hop's hair, much to his little brother's mild dismay and winced eye. He stands up slowly and offers a hand to Hop. They both stand up in their messy little washroom. 

"So..." Leon begins. 

"Thou might not but be hungry... should'st I find us some dinner?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation notes for context:
> 
> thou - informal version of 'you'
> 
> afeared - afraid
> 
> mad as hops - excitable 
> 
> gigglemug - dumb smile
> 
> daddles - hands
> 
> (yes i know not all of these were popular words at the same time but i wanted to imply that yes, these two are old and have probably heard all of these throughout the years)  
> (also yes these two are like 190-200 years old by present day but hop is still physically 14 and doesn't age ok thanks)


	2. The Apples

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation notes:
> 
> sauce box - mouth
> 
> orf chump - no appetite 
> 
> kruger-spoof - lying
> 
> sooth - true
> 
> hie - go quickly 
> 
> costard/costermonger - fruit salesperson
> 
> wot - know
> 
> bricky - brave
> 
> collie shangles - quarrels
> 
> mafficking - people getting rowdy in the streets
> 
> doth - do
> 
> afternoonified - smart 
> 
> shake a flannin - to fight somebody
> 
> nanty narking - great fun
> 
> skimble-skamble stuff - nonsense 
> 
> half-rats - intoxicated 
> 
> don't sell me a dog - don't lie to me
> 
> corky - old
> 
> dizzy age - elderly
> 
> church-bell - talkative woman
> 
> arfarfan'arf - drunken
> 
> make a stuffed bird laugh - absolutely preposterous 
> 
> grammercy - many thanks
> 
> tip us thy daddle - give me your hand

Hop was on one of his regular 7pm walks, perusing the outskirts of the chapel. It was sunset, so he brought his parasol to be on the safe side. It was then that he smelt something. 

Blood. Nothing out of the ordinary. The dirt is practically stained red, russet in some areas but almost garnet in others. But when he looks up at the red tree trunks, he wonders if that's the work of the sunset behind him or not.

He was walking through their apple orchard. Well, they _had_ one, but it didn't see too much use in recent years. As usual meals consisted of any poor fool who managed to stumble upon chapel grounds. Many a fool may have met their demise right where he was standing. 

Climbing one of the ladders leaning against a tree, he picks an apple. It is undoubtedly an apple, but he can't put his finger on what's unusual about it. He takes a bite. 

A _salivating_ taste. _Blood._ But strangely… sweet. Sweeter than any apple he'd ever tasted before. 

But…how? He was sure these were regular cox apples. And yet…. when pulling away from his bite… 

The insides, they're stained completely red.

He hops down from the ladder, parasol in hand. 

This was certainly interesting. 

  
  


\--

  
  


He fiddles with what remains on his plate. His brother was stern in putting more than just breast on his plate, even if he didn't eat it. But he had already eaten his peas, steamed vegetables, potatoes…. 

He just didn't like arms that much.

Leon pipes up. 

"I suppose that is not going anywhere near thy sauce box? Orf chump, again?" 

"I suppose so…" Hop organises slabs of meat into lazy patterns on his plate. 

"Whatever is on thy mind, then?"

Hop pauses to look off to the side. It was true. He was… troubled. He had grown tired of human meat in recent years. So much so he'd been meaning to ask Leon how he could hunt smaller animals. Buneary sounded like a decent start.

He wasn't content in telling Leon such things yet, though. So he picked the other topic on his mind.

"I was on one of mine walks this evening- and I spotted something. The apples in the orchard….they are strange."

Leon takes a sip of his wine. 

"How so?"

"They are… red! Oh so red. Blood red inside and out. Most sweet too...'tis so strange. Thou hast to try some."

"Thou art utterly kruger-spoof…" Leon chuckles in response. 

"I am not!" Hop sits up slightly. "It is sooth!"

His brother smiles and sighs. 

"It is fine. I believe thou. Doth go on."

Hop sits back down. 

"I was...thinking about selling them in town. I doth enjoy apples a lot, it hath reminded me. Yet there seem to be far too many for us to eat alone."

Leon raises a brow to that. "Thou? A costermonger?"

"Well, no. I was hoping I could sell them on to a real costard. And, in turn, I was hoping I could bring home a decent profit…?" Hop twiddles his fingers with a slight nervousness. 

Leon takes a rather long exhale from his nose and leans back into his chair, the wooden frame creaking slightly. He furrows his brows and shuts his eyes.

He didn't want to outright say no. When it came to Hop's simple, innocent requests he found his stern paternal attitude melt like it was on the surface of the sun.

He crosses his arms. 

"I...do not wot. I wot of how bricky thou be, yet I worry of the collie shangles and mafficking that goes about in town."

"Thou wot I frequent the town often…" Hop interjects. 

"Yes… I doth…" 

Leon was hesitant to call himself overprotective, but it was true. He was awfully scared something would happen to his little brother out there. His mind was ever more at ease when he would just stay at home playing with his toys. But he was…not a _growing_ boy, but adventurous. And Leon knew in the back of his mind that he had to cater to that. 

He sits back in his chair for a couple more seconds, fingers intertwined. 

  
  


".... Alright then."

"Great! Woo-hoo!" Hop jumps out of his repose to celebrate. 

"-UNDER! Certain conditions…"

Hop groans. He's annoyed at the finger Leon raises into the air like a condescending teacher would to a student. But he listens in regardless.

"Join back before eight o'clock in the evening. DO NOT shake a flannin. And please, keep afternoonified. Never get too excited. Be sure thou are not followed home." 

What felt like a long list of instructions to Hop was just a long 'please come back in one piece' from Leon. He _cares._ He cares so much. He was sure the kid could take care of himself, but something kept nagging him.

Hop perks up once Leon is done with his lecture. "I understand! What nanty narking! May I go to-morrow, then?" 

Leon sighs and slouches into his hands that are propped up on the table by his elbows. 

"Yes…. yes I suppose so." 

"Nice!" 

Hop goes to run upstairs, but stops himself. He walks back over to Leon's side of the table and leans over to hug his side, arms wrapped around his neck. 

"Thank you, Lee." 

He leans against his brother for a moment before letting go. Leon smiles. 

"Thou never hast to get so formal with me. Now hie, get some sleep so thou can go out to-morrow." 

Whilst running upstairs, he hears another distant call from his brother. 

"Do not bring thy Wooloo! Whom knows what havoc 'tis ill luck shall reek upon the townsfolk!"

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


"What?! Two shillings?? for all of the lot?" 

Hop found himself in his best outdoors attire: shorts, knee-length socks, and heels (as per usual), but replaced his parasol for a bowler hat out of convenience. It was decently sunny, and yet he still covered up with a long coat. It was in his best interest to stay protected from the sun.

All of this to be offered a rather abysmal price for what he would consider wonderfully delicious apples. 

"Do not get rowdy, they are simple apples." the vender continued on in an unimpressed tone. They were getting on each others nerves at this point. 

"Skimble-skamble stuff! Treating me like you would a gullible child." Hop pouts. "Taste one." 

"Hm?"

Hop has to stop himself from slamming his tiny fists onto the wooden surface, so he just leans over the counter instead. "Doth it! Then say to me what you regard. Otherwise I shall take myself elsewhere and sell them myself."

"Pff. Many young boys work as costards, you wot."

The shopkeep holds up an apple and takes a bite. His expression changes to that of wonder and confusion. 

"Simple apples...these are not."

"See? And you thought I was half-rats or lying."

The man takes another bite, looking at the apple's blood-red interior. 

"Wherever didst you get these?"

"I grow them myself!" Hop beams. It wasn't a _complete_ lie. He just knew telling anyone where the orchard was located would be a death wish for both ends. 

"Do not sell me a dog, young man." He tsks. 

"I am not! I am being honest."

The man leans back and thinks for a second before offering a price. 

"Four shillings."

A small smirk slips onto Hop's face. That, combined with the shade over his face from his hat made him out to look quite menacing. "Five."

The shopkeep raises an eyebrow. Hop sighs, dropping the facade. "Four shillings and four pence?"

"Deal. And you shall join back every three weeks or so, yes?" 

"Yes! I can do that."

They shake hands in agreement and he turns over his bag of apples. Hop swears he catches an uncomfortable shiver from the shopkeep. 

Hop is paid his amount and he happily trots off back home- atop the hill overlooking the town. 

  
  
  


\--

  
  
  


"Impressive, making it back hither without a scratch on thy ensemble." Leon piles Hop's plate with meat, vegetables, and some of the new steamed apples they had saved. 

"I told thou I would keep care!" Hop beams as Leon pushes his chair in, then walks over to his side of the table to sit. 

"That thou didst. Go on, how much didst they pay thou?" 

Hop smirks and looks proud of himself. 

"Four shillings and four pence." 

Leon sits back and returns his sly smirk with a raised brow. 

"Thou haggled for that, didst thou not?" 

"I did so! I bet as a businessman thou art impressed!" 

"I am. Thou didst good, Hoppy."

It was rare that he ever thought about his old occupation. Forty or so years ago, Leon was a successful businessman. He was rather knowledgeable on property values, the costs of different architecture… 

Not like any of that knowledge had prepared him for taking care of and providing meals for his younger brother.

Hop holds his glass of apple juice in both hands once he finishes his meal. He furrows his brows and looks down. 

"They were something rude, though. Thought of me as nought moe than a lost child."

Leon snorts. "I never regard that's going to change anytime soon."

"I wot….. but I am not merely a child! I reckon I am no less than fifty-four years corky."

When Leon doesn't respond from behind his wine glass, Hop tries jabbing at him. 

"Thou are in thy dizzy age too! Sixty….most corky."

"Thou are acting like such a church-bell tonight."

"Arfarfan'arf." Hop responds, dryly. 

"Cease! Make a stuffed bird laugh, I am not drunk. Thou are the one calling me corky all of a sudden." Leon can't help but snigger. 

Whenever it came to discussions about age, they'd find themselves always arriving at the same conclusion: immortality hadn't really changed their outlook on life. Sure, they no longer had to worry about death from old age, but in each other's company they hardly even thought about it in the first place. Dying from outside causes was more plausible. 

But they were here, undeniably, getting old. Forty years as a vampire flew right by. 

Hop yawns. 

"See? Even thou find thy energy tiring. Thy chatter is ever so endearing, yet I say thou get some sleep." 

Hop finds himself curling up in his plush duvets and snoring before he knows it. 

He repeats the same routine for months on end. Waiting for one batch of apples to finish growing and picking them. He would then walk into town dressed in one of his many ensembles to sell that week's bag. Walking home with a spring in his step, checking to see if he was followed home slipped his mind more often as the months went on. 

One day, unbeknownst to him, he was followed. 

He makes his way up the cobblestone path, the way back home. Warm wildflower dots the space around the pathway, and he arrives at the fence surrounding the chapel. He pushes the large metal gate open. 

Forest secludes the back of the chapel and wraps around either side of the territory, so a short walk beside trees on his right hand side awaits him before he can reach for the door. 

Wildflower grows even inside the chapel's garden. It is so beautiful. Only the sounds of birds chirping and his heels over cobblestone are here this evening. 

Or so he thought. 

  
  


The iron gate creaks closed again. His ears twitch. 

He turns around, expecting his brother-- or Wooloo, perhaps. 

  
  


Something is swung in his direction and his breath goes cold, already slitted pupils narrowing to pins, mouth agape, scream ready-

And the attacker falls to the ground, blood spurting out of their neck. 

His brother descends with bared claws. 

Hop topples over onto the cobble, bruising his knees. He watches from the ground as Leon approaches the man. He's at an utter loss for words. Instead, screaming in agony at his wound. 

Leon leans over slightly and stamps his boot onto the man's face. He stares on with a blank but horrendously furious face as he applies more pressure. More and more, until eventually crushing a human skull underneath his golden heel. Even more blood splatters, but he still bores his glowing eyes into the dead man's eye sockets. 

He steps back and crouches down by a shaking Hop. 

"Hop- Hop! Are thou alright?! Where thou hit-" 

Hop immediately clings to his brother's shirt. His arms wrap around his body and he can only shove his face into Leon's chest and sob. Leon returns the embrace. 

"Shhh…Thou art safe now." He rubs his brothers back gently. 

  
  


"Thou are not in danger any moe."

  
  
  


They stay until Hop's sobbing becomes still.

He rubs his eyes. Leon stares at him in concern as he pulls away from the hug. He holds his tiny hands. 

"Any better?"

Hop sniffles and nods his head. "Y-yes…"

"Good."

Leon ponders for a second, but then looks back up to Hop. 

"Hop. I didst not want to suggest this, yet…. should thee be in this much peril for selling thy apples…. I suggest thou forbear." 

He looks on with a serious expression, trying his hardest to continue on stern. 

"B-but-"

Hop genuinely looks surprised. His puffy eyes are wide. 

"I just do not crave thou to be in any danger, Hop." Leon pushes on. 

  
  
  


"I… I understand." 

Leon shines a soft smile and nods. It…hurts to put his foot down figuratively like this. 

"Grammercy."

  
  


He stands up, towering over the boy. He leans over, hand out. 

  
  


"Join on. Tip us thy daddle."

Hop grabs on and is thrust to his feet once again. 

  
  


They walk back, hand-in-hand, back home. 

  
  
  


~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly trying to calculate the prices of shillings and pence was so fucking headache inducing so if i've gotten the values completely wrong just now ya girl tried rip lmao  
> thank you for reading! i hope you enjoyed my doodles too <3


	3. The Fear

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translation notes:
> 
> hawthorn - the species of wood used for stakes, also an insult towards vampire slayers
> 
> meater - street term meaning coward
> 
> dew-beater - clumsy or awkward person
> 
> driggle-draggle - an untidy woman

Purple eyelashes flutter open. He groans as the sensation of dust tickles his skin. His cheek is cold against the floor. Hair drapes over his shoulders and an unpleasant taste lingers in his mouth. 

He blinks more and comes to. 

It's cold, he winces. 

Something hard holds onto his face tightly. Instinctively he goes to shake it off, but it doesn't budge. He reaches for it--

But his hands are tied. 

Chained, restricted, by metal. 

Reality begins to open up for him. He looks back to see his hands merely a shackled mess struggling against his confinements. The thick metal chain attaching him to the wall clangs and skids under the cobbles as he tries to wrestle free. Panicked breath condensates on the cold metal of his muzzle. 

He sits up on his legs and his coattails pour across the floor. He looks down to his lap, and sees crushed petals that once sat in his hair. 

He looks up. Shadows coat the depths of his cell and he looks beyond the bars. 

A dungeon. Light pours from above so he can only assume they're hidden somewhere underground. 

There's people outside his cage, they walk and talk and rustle about in their uniforms but they don't dare look him in the face. 

He looks at their gear. His eyes widen. 

  
  


"Slayers…" 

  
  


Leon was not surprised. But he was scared.

This was something nowhere near alien to him, but as a well-built man of his stature and ability he curses himself for landing in this predicament once again. How would one even go about rendering him unconscious when the last thing he remembered was being within the comfort of his own home--

"... Hop-  _ Hop?!" _

He looks around frantically, chains rustling even more. 

He was alone. Alone in this cell. No scent or trace of his brother to be found. 

He squints, peering into the cells opposite his. Still, nothing to be seen. 

Panic still lingers in his cells, but then he thinks. 

_ Calm down… _

_ He is a child...so...perhaps- haply, they spared him? _

It is what he'd like to believe.

  
  


His quiet reflection is interrupted by the slamming open of a metal gate. It creaks as more people rush in from a place Leon cannot see. They crowd around the room, hugging the sides as the centre now presents a wooden table. Shackles dangle from the sides. 

He recognises this- 

_ somebody is going to die.  _

  
  


It's no ordinary table, it is one in which sacrifices are laid to be slaughtered. He can only dread the sounds of dying screams that are soon to come...and that his little brother isn't exposed to such a thing. 

  
  


"L-Let me go! It hurts!"

  
  


His ears perk up. No, surely not…? 

  
  


"Get thy hands off me thou- thou dew-beater! Driggle-draggle! Stupid- fopdoodle!" 

Hop is shuffled into the dungeon. He's screaming throwaway insults and struggling in his constraints. His muzzle does virtually nothing to deafen the racket he's making.

Leon desperately hopes he'd quiet down for the sake of making their situation any worse than it already is. 

"This one is an arrant klazomaniac! Stay silent!" One of the men handling him yanks the chain of the collar around Hop's neck. He makes an audible choking sound. 

He can't do anything. He can do nothing- absolutely  _ nothing  _ despite his watchful eye, his protective nature- after all of it. It can't be hopeless, though, it can't- surely,  _ it can't- _

"Forbear that! Let him go!" Leon shouts out. 

He's left in the dust. Fallen onto his side, wrestling on the floor against chains. Rough stone scratches at his skin and clothes but he doesn't care. He's left with a tilted view of Hop strapped to the table. They both struggle at the same time, arms sore from thrashing about. 

Leon can hear his brother call his name out of fear. 

"Thou meater! Unhand him- I am what thou want!! He is a mere child!!" 

His stature shifts and contorts. Black fur covers his sides and his eyes bulge into slits as he roars. His massive wingspan threatens to jut out but piles of chains hold him back. He's too panicked, he can't. He can't transform. 

Giant claws lay waste and rampant to his cell and his body becomes recognisable on the floor once again. 

"STOP!! Take me instead!!" He pushes through fatigue with a raspy, growled shout. "THOU WRETCHED HAWTHORN!!" 

Looking through his strayed hair he sees his brother clearly once more. His muzzle is off. He's screaming. He's crying. He doesn't know where to look for comfort. 

"Lee?! Where are thou?!" 

A man readies a knife. 

"I am hither, Hop!!" 

His cries aren't heard. 

"HOP!!" 

"LEE!!" 

  
  


The blade pierces the young boy's chest wide open. Blood spews and coagulates with his fresh screams of terror and pain. It coats his entire view. A horrific shade burns up in front of his eyes. 

  
  


He feels lighter. His wrists are left with markings where his shackles once held him. Ashen tickles the sides of his face as his dry, messy hair flows in the winds. 

_ Screams. _

The sounds of those being burnt alive still remain fresh in his memory. Hoisted up on tall stakes. All he can do is watch. His eyes are too dry and sore to cry out.

The flowers in his hair are withered and burnt to crisp. 

His eyes are glued to it. 

They scream louder. 

It's overbearing. Too much. 

Stop  _ stop stop!  _

  
  


He's brought back gasping for air. Yellow, slitted pupils scower around and fangs grit, ready to bite. 

After the brunt of his panic he looks around. 

Leon remains in his old room. Specks of dust hang in the air. The window is agape, revealing the silver moon. 

He's home, and a book remains open in front of him. He must've fallen asleep while reading. 

A dim candle in a tray remains just to the side of his desk. It's stacked upon a pile of books. He eyes it cautiously. 

  
  


Candle in hand, he paces down the hall. It's a saunter, minus any of the relaxation, replaced instead with concern.

He lurks outside a door.  _ His _ room. 

After a quiet mulling over he opens the door. 

He peeks inside, a worried expression plastering his face. 

His brother-- he remains right here-- asleep, in his quaint little room filled with antiques and toys. A single wooden chair sits next to the bed. 

Leon walks inside and past Hop's horde of belongings covering each side of his room. He places the candle on the nightstand. 

_ He has to know.  _

_ He has to check, doesn't he?  _

He reaches for the duvet and pulls it down, revealing Hop's chest. 

There's nothing there, only his chest rising and falling slowly and soft fabric belonging to a nightshirt. 

Leon breathes a sigh of relief and covers Hop again. 

"Thank goodness…", his own scar rippling across his chest itches, all of a sudden. 

He brushes Hop's hair up and plants a kiss on his forehead, making sure not to scratch him with his beard. Violet hair flops back over his brows when Leon retreats. 

Leon sits in the wooden chair that's a little too small for him. It's worn and well-used from decades of bedtime stories. 

He clasps his hands over his lap and sits back, tilting his head back to look up at the ceiling. 

  
  


He sits there for some time, and it settles in him just how tired he is. 

  
  


He breathes slowly. 

  
  


"... I canst….not lose thou. Thou art the only thing I hast left…" 

  
  


He closes his eyes. 

"...what would I ever doth without thou?"

\--

Usually I would put some doodles here so here's a whole DUMP of them in a neat little zine I had to do for class. Chose to make it about this au cause it's been on my mind lmao

Have a peruse!  
  
<https://docs.google.com/document/d/1V-rQLrEXEJJyDcIKfYRboTE43GgaOkN9j0w2SuORxTQ/edit?usp=sharing>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! Hope you don't mind me renaming the fic lolll I wasn't vibing with it.  
> I hope you like the zine too! There's a whole bunch of doodles in there that I like waaa


End file.
